A debate often develops as to why such people conclude that acknowledging their indiscretions is the most prudent strategy. In the case of Mr. Armstrong, speculation suggests that his apology might serve to restore endorsements, or perhaps grant him the opportunity to compete again, or that a confession is the only avenue to forgiveness.

That last option is more than a mere notion. Americans have a reputation for such compassion. And yes, sometimes all it takes is an apology. I don’t think it’s extreme to suggest that forgiveness is an American tradition.

And that is what is so baffling to me. My wife is American. So why is it that she can’t seem to conform to what is clearly an honored, noble and patriotic principle?

Even the most infamous characters, some of whom I’ve mentioned above, have been granted at least a degree of clemency, if not total exoneration, often by the ones most aggrieved. And some of their transgressions were most appalling, a far cry from my trifling peccadilloes.

If my folly were anything approaching the level of scandalous improprieties demonstrated by some of the celebrities and politicians mentioned, there certainly wouldn’t be forgiveness.

Or acceptance, or lenience, or tolerance. More likely, there would be severance.

And when I say “severance,” I don’t mean the definition that connotes compensation paid to a departing employee. The term is more an anatomical reference.

Strangely, my wife seems to have less difficulty excusing the misdeeds of the schnauzer than those of her spouse. When the dog was a puppy and soiled the carpet, she caressed him, offered words of encouragement, and gently placed him on the grass. It took her all of five seconds to offer forgiveness.

In contrast, she’s still angry with me for putting bleach in the wash containing her “delicates,” and that was in 1982.

She also shows the same degree of compassion and tolerance to our grandchildren, who can do no wrong. Last week, when the 9-month-old crawled over to the coffee table, pulled himself up, and threw an antique vase across the room, my wife proudly proclaimed he was destined to become a reliever for the New York Yankees.

And that is why I have adopted the strategy of blaming the dog or my grandchildren whenever possible. I do this not as a selfish or shameful undertaking, but as an act of courtesy and consideration, knowing how upset she gets when it is I who commits an indiscretion versus an animal or anyone under the age of 6.